II.

The bard of Ferney, plac’d on high Amid the tuneful quire, With flying fingers touch’d the wooden lyre: The notes, tho’ lame, ascend as high As civic joys require. The song began from G――K’s toil, Who left his Litchfield’s native soil, (Such were his hopes of golden spoil) King Richard’s crooked form bely’d the man: Sublime on high-heel’d shoes he trod, When first he courted Lady Anne In Goodman’s Fields, till then an unfrequented road. As Hastings next round Pritchard’s waist he curl’d, Or shew’d, in Drugger’s rags, an idiot to the world. The list’ning crowd admire the lofty sound, A present Shakespeare, loud they shout around: A present Shakespeare, loud the rafter’d halls rebound. With prick’d up ears His May’rship hears; Assumed the play’r, Affects to stare, And shakes the room about his ears.